


It's been a long day

by Elisexyz



Series: 25 days of Swanfire fic-mas [19]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Pre-Season/Series 01, Season/Series 01, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: There's no way Santa can bring Henry what he asked for, and Emma knows it. She doesn't think that she's ready to watch as all his hopes get crushed.(Or the one in which Henry believes enough for both him and his mom - and enough to raise the dead too, apparently.)





	It's been a long day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "making a Christmas list" prompt in the [ "25 days of fic-mas" challenge on Tumblr](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/tagged/25-days-of-fic-mas/chrono).  
>  It's set in a canon divergence in which basically Neal doesn't leave Emma, they go to Storybrooke together, the curse gets broken early and they can just raise Henry in peace. Buuut Neal has shitty luck, so he dies anyway. ~~For like five minutes.~~

As soon as the doorbell rings, Henry’s whole face lightens up, and he immediately forgets about the truck he was playing with, alongside David, to scramble on his feet and run to the door.

Emma knows what he’s expecting, and her parents know too because she had a really embarrassing breakdown over it that she’d much rather never speak of again. Ever.

It’s just that she knew that the holidays would be tough, even more so than the rest of the year, because they have built quite a decent family there, they have _traditions_ now, even if they have been going on only for a few years, and having Neal ripped out of it like that— yeah, it isn’t great. She _knew_ it wouldn’t be great.

Yet, she somehow hadn’t expected Henry to overestimate damn Santa Claus.

In retrospect, she _should_ have, because you can’t live in a town where magic is a thing, believe in Santa Claus and not think ‘Hey, that evil witch could fly, I’m sure Santa can bring my dad back from the dead’.

Of course, after reading her son’s Christmas list – and after displaying her embarrassingly disproportionate reaction, considering that she didn’t even cry at the funeral, she should have managed to keep it together in front of a _letter_ –, Emma decided that she couldn’t just wait for him to be disappointed on Christmas morning, so she took him aside and tried to explain to him that not even Santa can fix this.

She might as well have said nothing at all: Henry didn’t even _try_ to listen, he just stubbornly believes in _Christmas miracles_. No matter how much Emma tried to explain to him that there are some things that even magic can’t touch.

So she’s going to have to deal with the holidays in spite of a giant, obvious hole in their family, fake-cheering through it until her son will smash his face against the cold hard reality and she’ll have to try and comfort him.

All this doesn’t sound painful at all.

Emma exchanges a glance with her mother, who offers a sad smile of encouragement as she follows her son to the door.

“It’s probably just Grandpa,” she remarks, although she knows that it’ll fall on deaf ears.

She doesn’t know how exactly Belle managed to convince Gold to come for lunch, and she isn’t even sure that she’s happy about it: there is little to no chance of him completely masking how devastated he feels, and Emma’s ability to fake-cheer is going to decrease as she watches him looking at Henry like he’s— well, the son of a dead man.

Some days, Emma can barely look at him in the eye herself, when he grins the same way Neal did or he makes some gesture that he got from him or even just when he treats a bag of doughnuts like it’s the second coming of Christ.

Henry is bouncing on his feet, staring expectantly at her as she reaches to open the door, and Emma decides that she’s rather stare at her guests than watch her son’s face fall completely.

Except there is only one person standing in front of her, it isn’t Gold nor Belle, and Henry’s enthusiasm doesn’t get bumped _at all_ , if anything he just lets out what could only be described as a squeal, before jumping forward with an overly excited: “Daddy!”

Because there’s a dead man standing right in front of her. And Emma is just gaping at him instead of doing something.

What the hell.

“Hey, buddy,” Neal grins, scooping Henry up and probably suffocating him with the tightness of his hug. He raises his eyes on Emma, and she’s pretty glad that she isn’t the only one at loss of words there.

“Neal?” she finally manages to creek out, and she can’t seem to be able to bring herself to move until he offers a small ‘yes’, barely audible above the sound of her own heartbeat.

“Oh god,” she mumbles, tears pushing behind her eyes as she leaps forward and inserts herself in the hug, grabbing his jacket to try and pull him towards her, even after he’s already pressed against her. In turn, he wraps his free arm around her back, holding her just as tight as she’s holding him.

She takes a moment to inhale deeply into his shoulder, half-hoping that if she squeezes her eyes hard enough she won’t turn into a sobbing mess in front of Henry, but tears start leaking anyway and she can only hope that the kid will be too distracted by Neal to notice.

“How—?” she manages to get out, pulling away just enough to lock eyes with Neal. “How did you—?”

Gold was pretty clear on it: no resurrections, it’s a rule of magic. Magic can do a lot of things, but there’s no cheating death. Which doesn’t mean that he didn’t try to look for a loophole, because of course he did, but— did he find one and not tell her? If that’s the case, she’s going to punch him in the nose.

It’s a _great_ surprise, but if she could have been spared even a _minute_ of missing him there’s no way in hell that it was worth it.

“I have no idea,” Neal announces, turning briefly to smile at Henry, who keeps beaming at him. “I think I remember Henry calling, but— I don’t know, I just woke up. I don’t even know what day it is, though I can take a wild guess,” he adds, tilting his head at the decorations. Emma hated every second of putting them up this year, but there was no way she was going to take that too away from Henry.

“You know what, I don’t even care,” she declares, scoffing before going right back to burying her face in his shoulder. “So long as I don’t wake up from this,” she adds, her voice muffled by his jacket.

“It was Santa!” Henry says instead, proudly. “I told you, it worked! I believed it, and it worked!”

Emma turns towards him to offer a smile, before holding up the hand that isn’t busy clutching Neal’s jacket – there’s no way she’s letting go in the next five years minimum; he was ripped away from her once, she isn’t letting it happen again – to ruffle Henry’s hair.

“Maybe you’re right,” she concedes, and, hell, it might even be the truth. Obviously it wasn’t Santa, but— who’s to say that in a magic town wishes can’t be granted every now and then? “Thanks, kid.”

“I added a plate,” Snow announces, walking up to them with a broad, teary smile. “It’s so good to have you back, Neal.”

“Thanks,” he replies, warmly. Emma closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his body vibrating against her. “Where’s my dad? I, uh, I’d like to say hi.”

“He’ll come over any minute now,” David announces. “Should I warn him?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m not sure Dark Ones can die of an heart attack, but…” Neal trails off, a note of teasing in his voice, and Emma doesn’t really know what’s keeping her from just starting to bawl her eyes out.

She only lets go of him – although she doesn’t take more than a couple of steps away – when Gold comes rushing through the door, eyes wide in disbelief and his jaw hitting the floor. As soon as the shock wears off enough for him to move, he launches himself at Neal, effectively suffocating him judging by the strangled sound he makes.

“Papa—” Neal tries, grinning a little as he tries to hug him back while he still has blood circulating in his arms. “I’m okay. No need to suffocate me.”

Gold, who apparently had nothing to do with any of this, needs a few moments before he can bring himself to ease his hold a little, but he still doesn’t let go, cradling Neal’s head and chanting ‘My boy’ on repeat while placing quick kisses on his head.

Belle has been keeping a distance, to give them space, but she briefly joins the embrace, then she shares a tearful smile with Emma.

Henry, who has decided that he is already tired of sharing his dad after just getting him back, keeps tugging his shirt, talking at the speed of light about all the new toys he received that morning – Emma and her parents might have gone a bit overboard with the Christmas presents in an effort to _compensate_ –, and, to his credit, Neal does a good job at indulging him, ruffling his hair for good measure, while still holding onto his dad.

Emma steps closer, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, and Neal offers her a bright smile that makes her stomach twist and her knees turn to Jell-O.

He’s _there_ , he’s alive. She was in that weird frame of mind where she _knew_ he was gone, she noticed the horrifyingly big void in her life and she missed him day and night, but as much as she told herself that he was just _gone_ she simply couldn’t seem to bring herself to completely believe it. For the most part, it felt like things were supposed to go back to normal any day.

And now they _are_ going to.

This feels like a good time to start believing in Christmas miracles.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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